


Queer as Elves

by eawen_penallion



Category: Queer as Folk (US), The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst and Humor, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drama, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1955079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eawen_penallion/pseuds/eawen_penallion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erestor is a sexual predator - no excuses, no promises, no regrets - until under the soft glare of a flaring torch he meets a very tenacious young blond ellon…</p>
<p>Disclaimer: all rights to the LOTR characters belong to JRR. Tolkien – I’m only playing with them. All rights to the characters and stories of QAF belong to Russell T. Davies, Ron Cowen and Daniel Lipman, and Showtime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Under a flaming torch...

**Author's Note:**

> This is combination of two of my obsessions - my long-standing love of LOTR and my more recent exposure to Showtime's 'Queer as Folk'. This little story utilises the QAF plot of episode 1, series 1, but set in the LOTR universe. Still, I have tried to twist it so that it doesn't disrupt the LOTR logic too much. This is dedicated to Sian, Fimbrethiel, Chloe Amethyst and Fishy, who inspired me to watch QAF and become a B/J shipper!

Imladris, Early Third Age:

 

The room throbbed with the rhythmic beat of the playing band, a beat that was echoed by the swaying and writhing of both elven and human bodies. The atmosphere was rife with energy, throbbing with promise of many pleasures both subtle and overt. To the beat of tambour and lilt of harp and deep pipes the ellyn and men held close to their partners, either in couples or groups, as others imbibed of their favourite alcoholic beverages. This was their haven, their refuge within the elven realm of Imladris for here played those who had embraced the duality of their sexual nature in a world where humans frowned upon such activities and the present politics of the realm's Lord were dictated by the whims of his Lady. Thus they retreated to the Woodman's Inn, set amongst the deep firs of the lower reaches of the ravine wherein they found succour - and sucking and fucking - in this adjoining tavern called 'Melethron'. Here they found the liberty to express their needs and wants and lusts - male to male, female to female. They searched for their next lover, prowling like a pride of those legendary lions of the far southern lands - raw, predatory, dangerous. And like that pride, they had a leader, a king who ruled them by supreme example.

"Orc's breath! Where *is* he?"

Lindir sniggered at Glorfindel's expletive.

"Where on Arda do you expect him to be?" he laughed and nodded to the innocuous door in the corner - held ajar by an old barrel, it belied the purpose to which the inner room was used. "He said he would be back in ten inches."

Glorfindel huffed, his annoyance clear upon his handsome face.

"Well, I have early patrol in the morning. I am tired and hungry, and I want to eat *my* meat off a *plate* this night!"

Saelbeth sipped his drink slowly, setting a deadpan expression upon his face before commenting.

"Somehow I do not think that Erestor is the one eating the meat. Not his style."

Lindir giggled again. "No, for in this matter our esteemed councillor judges that it is better to give than to receive."

"Aye, so generous is he with his favours."

"But never more than once."

Glorfindel glowered at the teasing repartee and glanced at the dark portal once more.

"So why is he delayed then?" he grumbled. "He has already had most of the males here."

Lindir grinned once more at the Elda's petulant face. It was common knowledge that he had never been the recipient of Erestor's attentions. 'Never mate with your mellyn' was a cornerstone of the dark councillor's creed. Glorfindel was his closest friend - and therefore off limits. It did not stop the golden lord from yearning though.

Saelbeth was speaking once more. "Newly-arrived cohort from Lothlórien," he was explaining. "Fresh meat, so to speak."

Glorfindel glared at the secretary then turned back to the bar to lift and drain his tankard.

"Still, I wish that he would hurry up," he grumbled.

****

The young elf trembled as he approached the torch-lit building, shivering in anticipation as he lingered in the shade of the surrounding trees. Seeing the constant trickle of customers in and out of the side door of the Woodman's Inn, Rúmil knew that this was the place that Dinendal had described to him before he left home.

" 'Tis a place for those like us, pen neth. For those of us who long for muscular arms and penetrating strength rather than soft breasts and an uninviting dampness in the core of our lovers." The Galadhel had looked sharply at his young friend when offering this information, wondering if had been doing the right thing in instructing the brother of his Commander. Haldir would *not* be happy if he knew the way his youngest brother leaned in his sexuality. Haldir was most traditional in his thinking, had wed young to a submissive female and already had two sons.

Rúmil had taken his friend's advice to heart and when his brother and guardian had insisted upon his taking this opportunity to further his education, Rúmil had ensured that his false protests against the order had looked real. Rúmil knew that Haldir would never have allowed him to come to Imladris if he had shown any enthusiasm at all. As it was, the Marchwarden had insisted on accompanying him and had utilised the journey to deliver strict instructions as to his behaviour during this ten-year tenure in the libraries of Rivendell.

"Lord Celeborn is sponsoring you personally, Rúmil, for he has great hopes for you. I too agree with this move for I have noticed that you have come under - unsettling - influences since your majority six months ago. It will be good for you to leave them behind." Haldir had paused before giving his final admonition. "You are the son of a noble and the brother of the Marchwarden of Lothlórien. You have a responsibility to your House to fulfil your duties and to pass on your proud heritage to your future children. Remember to act according to your upbringing."

Now Rúmil glanced back at the Last Homely House, perched proudly upon a high ledge of the ravine. His bed in his room that was next to Haldir's was neatly piled with carefully shaped pillows and draped in a duplicitous blanket. Such subterfuge was needed to gain his freedom, though the ivy clinging to his balcony had helped in his escape. His lips twitched in a devious smirk. Haldir was going to be *so* disappointed in his high expectations of him. Taking a deep breath and gathering his courage, Rúmil sauntered out of the shade into the flickering light cast by the high-placed torches.

****

"Well - are we leaving?"

The deep voice slid languorously over their ears, a drawl that always spoke of lust and erotic pleasures unlimited. Glorfindel felt his heart speed a little as he sensed the proximity of his long-time friend. Turning quickly he scowled at the elf, annoyed that his emotions showed so freely.

Erestor was stunning, as usual. His dark hair lay easily across the toned shoulders, flickering with auburn highlights picked out by the illuminating candlelight. The penetrating eyes were a deep brown in this light, belying their normal colour of hazel touched with green, an exciting amalgamation that swung from one shade to another with his varying moods. The mouth was finely carved and curved into his habitual smirk - half welcoming, half mocking but always beckoning to be kissed. The cocky smile spoke of the assumption that this was an ellon who normally got what - or whom - he wanted, no questions asked. The rich ensemble of softly-draped red silk tunic and tight black leggings clung to the well-honed body, drawing admiring glances that he ignored, for Erestor accepted them as his due. Elrond Peredhel may have been the Lord of Imladris but in *this* corner of the realm, Erestor was King.

"That didn't take long," Lindir noted, straightening up to greet the elf. Erestor shrugged.

"His mouth promised more than it could deliver. I got bored."

"Bored," sighed Saelbeth, almost wistfully. It had been a long time since anyone had clamoured for his attentions. Then again, this was Erestor they were talking about. "Would that we all were so lucky."

Lindir flung his arm about Saelbeth's shoulders in sympathy. "I suppose that when one gets as old as Erestor, the memories set in and unfavourable comparisons are made - unlike us young, fresh things."

He looked directly at Erestor, fluttering his lashes in mock innocence. Erestor narrowed his eyes but made no reply. He was an elf, for Arda's sake. Age mattered not to the Firstborn, yet still he was touchy with regard to it. That he was an elf of the early Second Age was on record but as to the rest of his history - well, that was known to only a few.

Their exit was swift, enabled by the uncanny parting of the crowd to allow them to pass. Glorfindel wondered at the sheer force of presence that was the councillor, for it was he who led the way. Once outside, the golden lord yawned.

"Ai, I am tired. Let's go to the kitchens and get the food, eh Erestor?"

He looked at his friend but the dark elf did not answer. Instead he stared into the trees, his attention captured by something not yet visible to Glorfindel. He turned his head to see what Erestor was observing.

From the gloom and smoke given off by the burning torches emerged a slight figure, his slouching stroll evidence of the youth of the elf. The boy was lithe and lean in pale green garb; his pale silk-blonde hair glowed in the torchlight as bright as the sun. He was as a spirit of beauty born from the forest. Leaning casually against the tall pole that supported the burning brand, he looked towards the emerging elves, his gaze never wavering.

Glorfindel glanced back at Erestor, startled to see that his friend was walking towards the youth without a word to his puzzled companions.

Rúmil looked at the elf who stood in front of him, gazing up into those expressive eyes. His breath caught at the beauty of the ellon who smiled gently at him, and his heart faltered as the moist lips rolled back into the enticing mouth for a moment before he began to speak.

"Suilad."

"M-mae govannen," Rúmil stuttered politely, trying desperately to control his voice. He lifted his head defiantly, determined that he would not behave like the nervous elfling he felt himself to be at this moment. He felt as if the edhel towered over him though he was but a few inches taller, so magnetic was his aura.

"So," the ellon continued softly. "How fare you this night? Where do you go?"

Rúmil shrugged nonchalantly. "Nowhere special."

The ellon nodded then leaned forward, his lips pursed as he whispered the next words. The breathy exhalation shot straight to Rúmil's shaft, stiffening what had already hardened with the mere presence of this manifestation of perfection.

"I can change that."

Rúmil looked up wonderingly into the hazel eyes again, and realised in that moment that his life would never be the same again.

****

The door was flung wide open to reveal a large and elegant chamber, sparsely yet expensively furnished. The dark-haired ellon strode in, revealing his dominion of his lair, and Rúmil could only follow. Erestor began to divest himself of his clothes, casually draping them over a nearby chair before turning naked to face the stunned youth, stretching his arms wide in query.

"Well," the mellow voice purred. "Are you coming in?"

As if in a trance Rúmil tore off his tunic, thrusting it aside as he walked into the strong embrace. Lips crashed down upon his and a questing tongue immediately demanded entrance into his hot mouth. Without a demur the young elf relinquished all control and melted into the kiss, the arms, and the naked body of Erestor. Within a short space of time the remaining offending garb was gone and the bewildered yet excited youth lay upon the large bed in the adjoining room, being stroked gently but firmly by the older elf.

"So how does this feel for you? Is it good, pen neth? Does it excite you?"

"Y-yessss!"

Rúmil groaned and bucked at the constant attention being paid to his member. Erestor chuckled for it was obvious that this delectable morsel was at the very least inexperienced if not a virgin. Not his usual type but for some reason he had been entranced at the first sight of the boy. It would be a novel entertainment to instruct the youth, and he shivered slightly at the prospect. The thought of any other touching the untouched flesh, of any other male trying at the untried entrance filled him with a disturbing anger. The beautiful boy with the sunshine hair was *his* - at least for tonight.

His distraction, compounded by a sudden banging at the chamber door, caused Erestor to turn his attention away from the boy though his hand still moved upon the purple shaft.

"Lord Erestor!" The voice carried through the outer door into the bedroom, urgent in its tone.

"What in Arda do you want at this time of night?" the dark elf cried angrily, ignoring the frantic gasps and shifting body underneath him.

"I come from the Halls of Healing, my lord, with word that Síredol is about to give birth. Lady Celebrían attends upon her."

Erestor glowered. 'She would,' he muttered to himself. Aloud he cried out, "I will come!"

"Aargh!"

"Valar!" Erestor looked at the white cream that had splattered over his hand, the boy, and his crisp blue sheets. "Ah," he said, somewhat annoyed, "you already have."

The boy blushed, total in his embarrassment.

"I-I am so sorry," he stuttered, his eyes wide with apprehension. Erestor very nearly smiled for the look upon the young elf's face was almost endearing…

Elbereth! He shook his head briskly. He *was* getting sentimental for once in his long life - and that just would not do. Rolling off the lithe body and off the bed, he pulled his mask firmly into place, kicking into action the persona he had perfected over thousands of years. His hard-nosed, hard-cock, free-living, unremorseful, uncaring, unfeeling -

"Get up and get out. You have to go."

"W-what?"

The shock and pain in the young voice was unmistakable but Erestor did not react. He turned from the boy, picking up his own leggings and shirt, pulling them on quickly.

"You have to go," he repeated, a little more kindly. "I am busy, so go home to bed, little boy."

"I-I can't! My brother, he thinks I am abed already… He - he must not know!"

Erestor raised an eyebrow. Just how old was this boy? He voiced his question.

"How old are you, child?"

The blue eyes flashed in irritation, revealing an inner stubbornness and strength. "I am no child! I am - one hundred and fifty!"

The brown eyebrow rose further.

"A-a hundred!"

A slight smirk appeared on the lips of the dark elf as he took a step around the four-poster bed, peering at the youth in query. Rúmil knelt naked upon the dark coverlet, the contrast with his pale skin causing Erestor to draw his tongue slowly over his open lips. The blond elf flushed under the sceptical stare and Erestor noted with pleasure just how far the flush travelled down the pale flesh.

"E-eighty…" the voice began to tremble under Erestor's relentless scrutiny.

"Seventy…?"

Erestor laughed in amusement, pausing in his slow stroll.

"What is this - an exercise in regressive mathematics?"

Rúmil dropped his chin in defeat, fighting hard to deny the moisture that pricked at his eyes. No, he would *not* weep like some silly brattish elfling. Gathering his fortitude, he looked at Erestor in defiance.

"I attained my majority on my last begetting day. I am no child!"

The strength and pride of the boy struck a chord deep within the councillor, for it spoke of maturity that his youthful looks belied. In the flickering candlelight the sheer beauty of the youth shone brightly. With a sharp acknowledging nod of the head, Erestor held out his hand to Rúmil.

"Well?" he asked. "Are you coming? Or going? Or coming and staying?"

Rúmil stood still in momentary stupefaction then broke into a blazing smile.

"I am coming!" he cried. 'And I want to stay', he added silently to himself, somehow knowing that the words should not be spoken. He wanted this dark elf with a passion he knew would not be appreciated - yet.

Erestor had broken into an answering grin. "You *will* be, before the night is over!" he laughed, throwing the boy's clothes at him. "Now hurry, pen neth - a very special event awaits us."

****

Out of breath and still laughing, Erestor and Rúmil tumbled through the doors of the Healing Hall to be greeted by a ferocious glare from a formidable female. Rúmil stumbled to a startled halt for the elleth bore a striking resemblance to one he knew well - Galadriel, Lady of Lothlórien. Beside her was one of the companions of Erestor, the golden warrior who had looked at him with such disdain - Rúmil recognised him from their encounter outside the tavern. He still did not seem pleased to see him, for sapphire eyes lighted upon him and Rúmil was shocked to see the naked hatred and jealousy within them. A sharp exhalation from the elleth drew his attention away from the towering elf.

"*Finally*! I wondered if you would show your face, you promiscuous laggard. Well, though for the life of me I do not understand why, she has been asking for you." The elleth's angry tone mellowed slightly. "Síredol has been delivered of a boy child this night," she finished softly.

Rúmil looked enquiringly at Erestor and saw an apprehensive but happy smile upon the ellon's face. Could it be… surely this was not Erestor's child? Silently he followed the dark elf, slipping determinedly past the golden-haired ellon who would have denied him entrance. The warrior turned and addressed his grievance to Erestor.

"'Res, why did you have to bring *him*?" he said in a voice that sounded suspiciously like a whine. Erestor shrugged.

"He had nowhere else to go, Fin. Besides," he leered lasciviously at the boy, "we have unfinished business tonight." The councillor reached out his arm and wrapped it around the youth's neck, drawing him close so that he could plant a firm kiss upon the pale pink lips. Rúmil moaned into the kiss as Erestor's tongue pried the lips apart to seek entrance to his mouth. Feeling the boy's unspoken and complete surrender, Erestor broke the kiss gently then leaned his forehead against Rúmil's. "Do we not, Glawaren?"

The affectionate moniker took him by surprise but Rúmil felt a warm glow sweep through him at this special name. In that moment he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be with this ellon forever. He almost forgot to respond, but simply grinned his pleasure.

"Erestor?"

The gentle call of an elleth and the plaintive wail of a newborn baby drew Erestor's attention away from him and to the inner room. A few strides brought the dark elf to the bedside and the very domestic scene there.

" Síredol?"

The brown-haired elleth raised her eyes to Erestor and Rúmil saw a deep love in her eyes for the elf, a love that was obviously reciprocated. The young ellon felt a fearful tightness clench at his heart when he saw the tender emotions cross the councillor's face. The elleth - Síredol - smiled and lifted the child to the bemused advisor. His hazel eyes were wide with wonder.

"Can I hold him?"

The baby was placed in the dark elf's arms, strong arms that gently embraced the new life. Erestor chuckled at the startled little face. "He has your lips, Síre …"

"And *his* eyes - and yours," she answered. The mournful catch in her voice provoked a tear to form at the corner of her eye, but Erestor came to sit upon the edge of her bed and softly kissed it away.

"I miss him too," he whispered in a low voice that cracked upon the telling. "But I promised you, Síre - I will be as a father to him. I always keep the few promises I make, you know that…"

Síredol lifted her hand to gently caress Erestor's cheek. "I know, and I am grateful, gwador."

"What will you call him?"

"I thought Belegon, but Celebrían suggested Joleyon…?"

Erestor looked darkly at the silver-haired elleth who still stood at the side of the bed, his nostrils flaring.

"She would." The dark elf turned to Rúmil. "What do you think?"

Rúmil was startled at being asked such a personal question. "Uh - Joleyon sounds a bit - pallid - but Belegon is a good name…?"

The older elleth snorted. "And just *who* is this, Erestor?"

Erestor swung around, still holding the baby in his arms, confused at the question. "Um - this is…" his voice trailed away and Rúmil blushed, realising that Erestor had not cared enough to ask him his name.

"His name is Rúmil," a voice interjected. "Gods, 'Res - if *I* can remember, why cannot you?"

Erestor laughed. "You always were better at that kind of thing, Glorfindel. That's why I always leave it up to you."

Rúmil stood in shock. *This* was the mighty Glorfindel? The legendary Warrior Re-Born? This whining asshole? Aiya… And the elleth was Celebrían, the Lady's daughter and Lord Elrond's wife. Oh Elbereth, what had he gotten into?

"So," Celebrían spat, "you are still indiscriminate in your affairs, Erestor. It seems that both you *and* Síredol had babes tonight! For the life of me I cannot see why my husband puts up with you!"

Erestor snorted in poorly concealed irritation, handing the child back to the elleth in the bed.

"I often wonder the same thing about you, Celebrían. And as for my pretty young thing, we were - interrupted - before the event - but do not fret, the night is yet young." He kissed Rúmil on the lips. "Wait outside for me, pen neth. I just have to find someone then we shall be away." The dark elf turned and leaned over to Síredol and the baby, kissing each in turn. "Sleep well, pen vuin, ion nín. I will see you in the morning."

With that the councillor exited, leaving a room full of understanding, and annoyed, and jealous, and horny elves.

****

The walk back to Erestor's rooms was slower than their race to the Healing Halls for it was compounded by Erestor's erratic behaviour. He had returned to collect Rúmil as promised but, to Rúmil's chagrin, Glorfindel had insisted on accompanying them back to the main house. However, Erestor still insisted on fondling and nuzzling the youth's slender body and face, murmuring nonsensical endearments as he staggered along the path.

"I want you, pen neth, I will have you. All. Night. Long."

Glorfindel glowered at Erestor. " 'Res, what did you take?"

Erestor giggled. "A potent concoction encapsulated by my supernaturally superlative apothecary!" He kissed Rúmil once more, his voice a mock whisper in the pointed, shell-like ear. "If you ever hump a herbalist, always be nice to him afterwards, pen neth. *Then* he will always be nice to you!"

Glorfindel huffed in disgust. "Erestor, you have a council meeting in the morning! You, boy, run on home now - this is no place for you."

Erestor's head shot round to glare at the golden warrior. "No, no, Fin. This tasty little morsel is mine until dawn breaks, are you not my sweet?"

Rúmil narrowed his eyes at the golden lord and pressed closely to Erestor, defying the elf to prise him from the councillor's grasp. His statement was clear and firm.

"I am going with *him*."

Erestor laughed again and pulled the youngling to him, kissing him soundly.

"Good boy!"

****

The bed was as comfortable as before but Rúmil did not feel comfortable. Nervous, scared, terrified even - but not comfortable. But above all these emotions he felt wanted, needed, excited and cherished by the elf who was now kissing and stroking his body with a gentleness that amazed the young elf. Even through the haze of the medication he had taken it seemed that Erestor was still aware of Rúmil's innocence in these matters and had gently prepared the youth. Panting now from the erotic movement of the fingers within his hole he knew that he was gazing at the dark elf in lustful adoration. Erestor smiled down gently at him between the raised legs.

"The oil is to prepare the way, pen neth," he murmured. Each movement of the digits within his channel caused Rúmil to gasp more, compounded by the silken brush of the auburn hair against his sensitive nipples.

"It was cold," he whimpered shakily.

"But it heats up quickly." Erestor reached for the vial of oil again, administering a lavish handful to his full member.

Rúmil looked up, his lip trembling in fearful anticipation as the elf leaned forward, the tip of his shaft pressing firmly against the lubricated opening. The youth gasped at the sharp intrusion.

"It hurts!"

"Hush, little boy, breathe with it. Venture beyond the pain and I will bring you a pleasure of which you have only dreamt."

Erestor paused for a moment, allowing the young elf to adjust and then pressed forward once more. Rúmil gasped as the thick shaft brushed across the internal gland, sending a rocket of sensation bursting through his body. He arched up into the contact, wanting more, needing more. Erestor reached forward to whisper in his ear.

"That is it, my little man. Feel me within you for every time you are claimed in the future, you will know that I am always there. Always."

Erestor rocked again, capturing those enticing pink lips with his own on the down stroke, ravaging the mouth even as he claimed the body. Gods, the boy was tight, and so wanton! With every thrust the boy reacted, demanding that he increase the pace to match the passion rising within them. It took all of the ellon's experience and restraint to resist the needful cries for he knew that he did not want to hurt the young boy - nay, edhel - beneath him. Valar, he had not felt such a connection with a lover since - Erestor knew not when. Of the thousands of bodies he had taken none had touched him like this beautiful boy. He wanted to make this good for Rúmil - no, he wanted this to be perfect. He wanted to imprint himself on his very soul so that this gentle elf would remember this night and his first lover forever.

"I will always be with you, seron vell - always!" the councillor gasped as he felt himself reaching the crest of his climax. He pressed forward again, glowing with satisfaction as Rúmil found his release, his hot seed splashing onto their bodies. With one final thrust the dark elf came within the hot channel, coating its walls with his own copious semen.

"Melin le, Glawaren!"

The cry rang around the echoing chamber, exploding unknowingly from an uncomprehending mouth and heard only by the open and trusting heart of the virgin-relieved.

****

The dawn light drifted gently through the glazed windows, unhindered by any drapes or blinds. Rúmil lay on his side watching Erestor toss in his now-disturbed sleep as the light began to wake him from his reverie. The young elf glowed with an inner happiness resulting from the night's endeavours, enjoying his contemplation of the perfection of this elf - his melethron. The first session had not been their last for Erestor had proceeded to repeatedly take him to previously unknown heights, opening his eyes and his body to delights beyond his comprehension. When at last they had succumbed to reverie Rúmil had fallen asleep in the warm and secure arms of this beloved elf, knowing that Erestor of Imladris loved Rúmil of Lórien as much as he loved the councillor.

Flinging an arm across his face to protect the hazel eyes, the councillor groaned as he stirred. Rúmil leaned across to gently lay a soft kiss upon the dark elf's cheek. The arm shot down at the light touch, and the bleary eyes glared at him.

"What the fuck…?"

Rúmil grinned, not knowing that his smile was as blinding as Anor's beams.

"Maer aur, Erestor," he laughed, seeing the irate confusion upon the edhel's face.

The elf grunted. "What are you doing here?" he growled, then shook his head. "Forget it, I remember everything - you could not return to your brother …" Erestor squinted, looking sideways at the youth. "What was your name again?"

"Rúmil…" the young elf stuttered.

Erestor nodded. "I remember." He sat up slowly, clutching his head. "Aiya, what was in that orc shit I took last night…?" He looked sourly at Rúmil, as if to blame him for the pain he was in then seemed to think better of it. "Up, boy. I have a busy day and I am sure you do too."

Rúmil nodded slowly. "I am to take classes under the auspices of Lord Elrond but I do not know where they are held…?"

Erestor nodded absently. "Come on - I will direct you, pen neth." He looked at Rúmil expectantly.

"May I … use your bathing chamber…?" Rúmil asked hesitantly.

Erestor collapsed back onto the bed, waving silently at the door into the bathroom. With haste Rúmil removed himself from Erestor's presence, determined not act like a spoiled child even though the disappointment of the elder elf not even remembering his name bit deeply. Once in the chamber he proceeded to fill the deep tub and slid slowly into the warm water, revelling in its heat even as he winced slightly at the sharp sensation emanating from his hole. He grimaced - then grinned with satisfaction. He was a virgin no longer, and the edhel who had taken it was the most beautiful ellon that Eru had ever created. Despite his youth Rúmil knew that Erestor was his soulmate, the one he would love forever. Of course, from this brief encounter it seemed that Erestor was yet unaware of this fact but Rúmil was nothing if not determined. And obstinate. And resolute. No, Erestor of Imladris *would* be his. He just had to convince the dark elf. He tossed his head back, the soaked strands of his hair flinging out a rainbow shower of droplets, the movement causing his tresses to flare like a silver-gold cloak about the pale shoulders.

From the doorway Erestor watch the action. Varda, the boy was so unaware of his magnetism, his wanton allure! What was it about this youngling that called to him so, that pierced his shield as no other had in his long life? Erestor knew that the shield was truly a wall built about his heart, trapping his emotions, all his feelings - all the love he had left to give was locked within its imprisoning bars. A prison to protect him from memories - to divide him from his childhood. The boy was a danger to him. He could not let him in.

He smirked. Nevertheless, there was no reason that he could not be *within* him once more. Slowly he sauntered to the bath, sliding his long body in behind the youth and took the soap bar from Rúmil.

"Here, let me wash your back."

Rúmil glanced at Erestor in surprise but acquiesced gratefully. Feeling emboldened by Erestor's obvious attraction to him, he ventured to ask a question that had lain on his mind since the night before.

"Who is the child that we saw born last night? Is it yours?"

The gliding hand stopped for a moment against his spine and then began to cleanse him once more.

"I am not the father. That was my cousin, Síredol's husband, but he is now dead. He was killed whilst on patrol six months ago. We three grew up together, in a childhood that was not - easy. When Tolín died I promised that I would keep an eye out for them." The councillor shrugged, the tenor in his voice changing to a more sardonic tone. "It costs me nothing, and she is happy."

Rúmil heard the change but thought it false. He remembered the pure love and joy he had seen in the councillor's eyes at the moment he had taken the baby into his arms. Erestor loved them both, he was sure. The rhythm of the stroking hand had changed and the soap was now circling against his stomach as the councillor placed himself firmly against Rúmil's back. The young elf's breath quickened as the soft voice brushed against his ear.

"Forget the child, for I have my own youth to play with now. What say you, pen neth - are you up for another round?"

Erestor enfolded Rúmil in his arms, clasping the firm chin in one hand to pull him into a devouring kiss. The other hand dropped the soap into the water, freeing it to slide sensuously over the flat stomach. As the hand slid lower Rúmil gasped and he could feel the slim mouth curve into a grin against his neck, for the wandering hand had surely felt just how ready he was. In one quick movement he was lifted and folded over the thick ledge of the tub as firm hands kneaded and parted the swell of his cheeks and a finger probed within. Rúmil cried out at the sensation of the welcome intrusion as first one then two fingers entered his hole to find it still lubricated. The fingers were swiftly replaced by something much harder and larger. The deep voice chuckled.

"I see that you are, Glawaren. I see that you are."

 

****

Rúmil glanced about them, conscious and somewhat embarrassed at the stares they had garnered during their journey through the halls of the Last Homely House. Glorfindel had arrived at Erestor's chambers as Erestor was dressing him, pressing kisses upon his bare flesh then covering each spot with an item of clothing. The golden warrior's surprise at seeing Rúmil still there was disturbingly apparent.

"You let him stay the night?"

Erestor had looked at Glorfindel in amusement and had laughed. "Of course, Fin." His finger had stroked the downy cheek of the youth, trailing over his jaw to end upon his pouting pink lips. "You do not think that I would send him to his lessons without a very - nourishing - breakfast?"

Glorfindel had grunted his disapproval but Erestor had shrugged away his objections. Together the three elves had exited the residential wing of the main house, Erestor leading the way in his usual confident manner with his arm lightly draped across his friend's shoulders. Glorfindel had almost glowed at the careless attention.

The way had been long and the passages a veritable maze before they finally arrived at the library and associated teaching halls. A large crowd were already gathered there, young elves massing to attend the lectures. The students looked curiously at Rúmil's arrival in the company of the notorious chief councillor of Imladris. Erestor motioned Rúmil forth then called to a lovely dark-haired elleth of similar age to Rúmil. The elleth smiled hesitantly, but the smile was warm and sympathetic.

"Arwen, this is Rúmil who is here to join your class. Be his mentor today, for he is new to Imladris and is in need of a friend."

The elleth smiled in acquiescence, entirely prepared to accept Rúmil as a mellon.

"Of course, Lord Erestor."

Behind Arwen, a heavy-set youth sniggered openly. He was surrounded by a circle of contemporaries and Rúmil could see that he was their leader.

"Ai, not another little sodomite to intrude upon us," the youth commented caustically. "We shall have to watch our backs, boys, especially in the baths after weapons drill!"

Rúmil blushed at the vicious barb and the obedient laughter it provoked. Erestor was more explicit in his response.

"One more word, Cylleruion, and you will find my boot up your tight little ass - or are you longing for a much harder part of my anatomy?"

The youth flushed red, shooting an angry glance at Rúmil before turning to quickly enter the classroom accompanied by the derisive chuckles of those who were not part of his coterie. Rúmil turned eagerly to Erestor, delighted at his spirited defence.

"Can I see you again?"

Erestor looked down upon the glowing elf, his lips twisted into a wry smile.

"I am chief advisor to Lord Elrond, pen neth. I have no doubts that our paths will cross again."

Rúmil shook his head. "No, I mean tonight?"

Erestor sighed and laid the palm of his hand against the soft flesh of Rúmil's young face.

"Glaze your eyes in reverie tonight, Glawaren, and you will find me there. You will see me - in your dreams."

The councillor patted the cheek one last time before departing with Glorfindel to begin his busy day. Rúmil could only stare longingly after him. Arwen touched him on his arm, rousing him back to awareness.

" Come, Rúmil. Our classes begin in a few minutes." She paused, looking at the now-empty corridor that Erestor had traversed but moments before. "He is a handsome edhel, is he not?"

Rúmil shook his head, knowing that the dark elf was so much more than that.

"I have seen the face of a Vala Incarnate," he breathed reverently, "and his name is Erestor of Imladris."

He turned to look at his new-found friend and in a moment of shared humour they laughed at the happy revelation. Looping her arm through Rúmil's, Arwen turned them and together they entered the classroom to begin Rúmil's first full day in Imladris.


	2. The Morning after the Night Before

Rúmil had expected for the day to be interminable, for he longed only for the night when he would see Erestor again. Instead he had found himself absorbed by the events of the day - his lessons, his new friend, his new home here in Imladris - and his first ever enemy.

 

To say that Cylleruion did not like him would have been a gross understatement. The stocky youth's father was apparently one of Erestor's rivals in Elrond's council and his position gave him some immunity against deserved reprisal, a position that Cylleruion took advantage of in his own juvenile jockeying to stature amongst the young elves of Rivendell. However, he knew he had gone beyond the bounds during his humiliating encounter with the Chief Councillor of Imladris that morning. Since he could obviously not be revenged upon the ancient lord the boy had found an equally desirable target for retribution in Rúmil. Snide remarks in the corridors, and books and quills 'accidentally' knocked to the floor during lectures and studies would only be the opening sallies of the war against him, the Lórien lad knew only too well. In other circumstances Rúmil would have regretted this turn of events, for by no means did Cylleruion resemble a troll - but in comparison to Lord Erestor any charms the other boy held paled into insignificance.

 

In sharp contrast, Arwen had become a welcome confidant. Her long-time acquaintance with Erestor had proved to be a veritable wellspring of information for Rúmil, yet Arwen lacked the one piece of intimate knowledge that he craved. When would Erestor admit him to his bed again?

 

"It was beyond belief, Arwen," the young student enthused. "So - hot. So intimate. So gentle. I asked to go slowly and he did. He was so considerate of me. It was perfect!"

 

Arwen nodded her head eagerly, fascinated by this unique insight into the character of an elf who had been but an intimidating and detached presence in her life up to this moment. The Chief Counsellor was well known for his brusque and cutting comments, ill-suffering children and fools alike. Save for the intense and erudite education into politics and history that he had taught in deference to their positions as the offspring of Elrond and Celebrían, Arwen and her brothers might as well have been abstract pieces of furniture scattered about the Last Homely House. Only as they had reached the intellectual level of adults had Erestor acknowledged them as anything other than a dreary chore.

 

"So," she asked wide-eyed. "Are you now his… betrothed?"

 

"No!" replied Rúmil, startled by the question. He hesitated and then grinned sheepishly. "Well, not yet - but maybe…?"

 

"But do you love him?" the maiden pressed, caught up in this unexpected romance of her new friend. Rúmil paused in thought but then realised that it took no thought at all.

 

"Yes! I do!"

 

"And? Does he love you?"

 

The question hung in the air, throbbing and palpable until Rúmil finally answered, his eyes sparkling in fervent remembrance.

 

"He said he did - right before he came within me!"

 

His excited laugh mingled with Arwen's embarrassed giggles.

 

"When are you going to see him again?" she asked.

 

A determined yet happy look danced upon Rúmil's face.

 

"Tonight! Definitely tonight!"

 

****

 

Erestor yawned.

 

Mentally.

 

Internally.

 

He would never have embarrassed his Lord by exhibiting such crass and disrespectful behaviour in public but - Valar, this was such a *boring* meeting! Yet *another* trade agreement with yet *another* fat human burgher from yet another pitifully tiny, self-important human town.

 

Humans!

 

Were it not for the fact that Elrond considered himself to be a 'bridge' between the First- and Secondborn; were it not for the constant leeching of Elves from Middle Earth in their dribbling exodus to the Undying Lands; were it not for the necessity of mutual protection of the two races in their resistance to the Darkness; and were it not for the fact that Erestor had practically exhausted the pool of available and willing ellyn in whom he could impale his cock - then he would say 'To damnation with them all'! And why not? If the elves who inhabited the hidden haven of Imladris only knew of his history with regard to the humans they would not only understand his disgust of Men but would applaud his negligent relations with them - but they did not. Not many, anyway.

 

So he sat back and smiled at the one human who had caught his eye, and who in return was casting furtive glances his way. The man was hirsute like many of his race, but the pink tongue had flicked out more than once to lick nervously at lust-dried lips. Oh yes - he was a certainty.

 

The rambling negotiations washed over Erestor, coming to a mutually satisfactory end. Boredom notwithstanding, Erestor had followed every word and was well pleased with the performance of his junior counsellors. The two parties drifted from the room in amicable conversation until only the auburn-haired elf and the bearded man were left. The man bowed, imbuing little grace in the movement.

 

"A good morning's work, my lord," he said uncertainly, his words probing for Erestor's intentions as gingerly as a toe would test the heated water of a steaming bath. Erestor smirked. This man was about to feel the heat of his need, of that he had no doubt.

 

"That is what we are here for," the elf said smoothly. On seeing the confusion on the man's face, Erestor elucidated. "To - facilitate - pleasant negotiations."

 

The man's head jerked at the elf's implication, obvious only to one who held similar inclinations. His breath quickened and Erestor knew he had hooked the man. He now proceeded to reel him in.

 

"It is in our - interest - to ensure that mutual… desires… are met," he purred examining the man's eyes then slowly sliding his gaze down the hard body to the even harder body part. The dilated pupils, short breaths and evident bulge told him all he needed to know.

 

The elf dallied no longer. Sliding a slender finger into the belted waistband he tugged hard, pulling the man into an adjacent room - a large, dimly-lit closet where he knew they would not be disturbed. Carelessly slinging the man against a wall Erestor quickly pressed his slim body to the man, trapping and surprising the man with his deceptive strength. The man's eyes widened at the forward behaviour of the counsellor, so untypical of the usual grace of the Firstborn.

 

"J-just so you know," the man babbled, "I do not kiss - and I - I am a … dominant partner!"

 

Erestor smirked triumphantly, grasping the man's bearded chin firmly and he forced the human to face him.

 

"Oh, riiight…" he drawled - then plunged his mouth forward, attacking the full lips, parting them with his questing tongue and plunging it down the man's throat; ravaging the man's mouth into submission. Once he felt the man melt into his first-ever defeat Erestor deftly spun him to face the wall and yanked his belted trousers below his hips. With one hand he grasped both wrists and pulled them high above the shaggy head, using the other to unlace his own leggings.

 

Erestor freed his swollen member and, with one swift thrust, the Chief Counsellor of Imladris drove home to the man precisely how much he had underestimated the formidable elf - then he proceed to thoroughly educate him as to the exquisite pleasure of his mistake…

 

****

 

As swiftly as the day had passed, Rúmil now felt the evening drag interminably. He had returned to the company of his brother for a private dinner in their rooms, full of enthusiasm and high spirits, buoyed by his lessons of both the day and the previous night. As they ate he had artlessly rattled off tales of his more acceptable pursuits, failing to notice the grim countenance of the Marchwarden. Still, Rúmil eventually recognised the silence and trailed off uncertainly.

 

"Haldir? What is wrong?"

 

The archer leaned back in his chair, his fingers playing with the slender crystal stem of his wine glass. Rúmil felt his intense scrutiny and fought not to flinch under the unremitting stare. The steely blue eyes held a controlled anger that worried him, and the boy's fingers rose to play nervously with the long strands of his loosely bound hair. Finally Haldir spoke.

 

"When, precisely, were you going to elucidate why I found a pile of pillows in your bed this morning when I came to rouse you? What excuse you have for not appearing at the breakfast table? When should I expect to learn why you seem to have worn the same clothes two days in succession? What *possible* explanation can you give me as reason for your secret, nocturnal expedition into the environs of Imladris - and on your first night here?"

 

Rúmil thought fast and frantically, the searing ice in Haldir's speech indicating the depth of his ire. The same admirable attributes that made his eldest brother such a formidable Marchwarden - his perception, his perseverance and his piercing intellect - now sought to trap Rúmil into confessions that the young elf had no intention of making. His mistake had been to arouse his brother's suspicious nature and now if he were to have *any* hope of pursuing his counsellor, Rúmil would have to soothe and lull those suspicions. He had no intention of being dragged back to Lothlórien anytime soon.

 

"I was too excited to sleep," he began warily, "and yet I had no desire to have you raise the alarm in the middle of the night. That is why I arranged my bedding as such. I - I did not mean to be absent all night but I fell asleep as I sat in a gazebo in the gardens and I only woke up with the dawn's light…"

 

Rúmil could almost feel his tongue swelling to fill his mouth as the lie tripped off it, but he desperately wanted to allay Haldir's dire misgivings. He cast about for something to distract the ellon, drawing forth all his knowledge of his brother's character to use in his manipulations.

 

"I did make a new friend today?" he blurted unexpectedly. "The Lady Arwen!"

 

Rúmil inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Haldir's face clear. Yes, he *knew* that snip of information would be more pleasing to the ambitious Marchwarden. Haldir shared with their counsellor father a belief in the superiority of the lineage and appreciation of the rank they held within the elven nobility. Any movement on Rúmil's part to enhance their social stature was sure to meet with Haldir's approval. Rúmil did not delay in pressing his advantage home.

 

"In fact, she has invited me to study with her this evening. She said that Lord Elrond would not mind if we used his private library in the family wing." He paused and placed as deliberately wistful smile upon his lips. "Ai, I can certainly see why they call her 'Luthien Reborn'…"

 

And thus it was that Rúmil found himself once again in the company of Elrond's daughter that evening. Arwen had fallen easily with Rúmil's plans for she had quickly become enamoured of the perceived romance between the Imladris elder and the Lórien youth. She had agreed eagerly to cover for her new friend and had set to her task of inscribing for him their lesson plans - whilst the blond boy slipped away, down the hillside and into the night.

 

****

 

The Woodman's Inn had attracted a busy clientele by the time Erestor and Glorfindel arrived that evening. Glorfindel's mood was somewhat sullen due to being delayed by (so he felt) unnecessary formalities with visiting dignitaries. Normally boring in the extreme, they had become doubly onerous when Celebrían had, in malicious delight, introduced to him the weighty daughter of the Burgher of Bree. The girl had positively oozed with simpering adoration, amongst other body parts, and only with Erestor's timely intervention had Glorfindel escaped a dubious plot by the young female to bed the seneschal.

 

"Butt plug? Is that all that you could come up with, 'Res? My presence was urgently required because of a *butt plug*!?"

 

Erestor grinned widely at the memory of the distaste so evident upon Celebrían's face, his tongue pressed firmly to the inside of his cheek.

 

"Our Lord and Lady were overplaying the 'benevolent overlord' crap. I've told the bitch many times that Elrond needs to get that big stick out of his ass. I only offered her something to replace it."

 

Glorfindel groaned.

 

"Yes, but did you *have* to hand her a nine-inch wooden dildo?"

 

Erestor shook with laughter. "Oh, but my dear 'Fin - it is a work of art! Faelon said that he carved it after I fucked him; it was inspired by my 'bee-ooutiful' cock!"

 

"And did you *have* to tell her that too?" the golden elf wailed.

 

"Yes!"

 

The counsellor laughed as he saw first outrage then amusement cross his meldir's face, knowing full well that he would always be forgiven. Throwing a strong arm about the broad shoulders of the warrior and leaning his dark head against the blonde's, the two friends entered the tavern to begin their night at play.

 

"Oh damn!"

 

Glorfindel looked up at the dark-haired elf in inquiry. "What? What ails you?"

 

Erestor nodded in the direction of a fair head, sitting enthralled by Lindir's vocal performance upon the small stage. As if he had sensed the counsellor's entry the youth turned towards them, a sweet and welcoming smile upon his face.

 

"Suilad!" he called brightly from the nearby table. Erestor groaned.

 

"Oh great - just what I need. The boy… what was his name?"

 

"Rúmil," spat Glorfindel, annoyed both at Erestor's melodrama and the irritatingly broad grin upon the boy's visage. "Rúmil! If I can remember it - and *I* didn't even fuck him - why cannot you?"

 

"Because I did?"

 

Whatever vile oath Erestor had been ready to fling at the lad was stalled by the bright sunshine that he saw in that smile. Instead he strolled reluctantly towards him.

 

"So, pen neth," he said in a condescending drawl. "How was playschool?"

 

Rúmil winced slightly at the mocking reference to his youth and fought to frame an appropriate response. It was for naught for at that moment Lindir joined them, flushed from the accolades that had accompanied his performance.

 

"Well played, Lindir," Glorfindel complimented the bard. No one in the elven realms could compare to the white-haired elf for either range or sweetness of voice, or such tender skill upon any instrument to be found in Middle Earth. Lindir knew this and did not indulge in false modesty.

 

"Oh my dear, I was *fabulous*!"

 

Erestor snorted mildly, his usual response to Lindir's fluttering excesses, but he bore no malice against the musician. There was a greater depth to the bard than Lindir generally displayed and Erestor respected this. Instead he cast his eyes around the room, registering the lacklustre quality of its patrons. He turned back to his companions, ignoring the lustful glances that he knew had been laid upon him.

 

"Let us be gone from here," he said shortly, turning to leave. Glorfindel's hand caught at his sleeve.

 

"Why leave so soon? We have only just arrived."

 

"I have had everyone here."

 

The words were tossed lightly into the mix, but everyone knew the truth of them. Erestor's voracious appetite was infamous, as was his 'one fuck only' rule. Rúmil blushed as he realised that the beautiful memory was but a notch in Erestor's bedpost, then the flush deepened when he saw Glorfindel glance at him, his brief stare full of envy.

 

"You have not had me!" the golden lord spat bitterly.

 

Erestor raised a slender eyebrow and a smile danced wickedly upon his lips. Glorfindel groaned, understanding the intimation.

 

"It does not count!" he protested, drawing open-mouthed stares from Lindir and Saelbeth. The bard positively gleamed with unbridled curiosity.

 

"Ai, you *must* tell!"

 

"No!"

 

Erestor ignored Glorfindel, an amused moue curving his lips as he proceeded to revel in embarrassing his friend.

 

"It was not long after Glorfindel's rebirth when he was but a neophyte in Gil-Galad's realm, a pure innocent in a lascivious court. Mudolwen had reclaimed him as a long-lost son and was smothering him in her abundant affection."

 

Rúmil watched and listened as the others nodded sagely at this anecdote. It was obvious that they knew the elleth of whom Erestor spoke. Rúmil kept his silence, not wishing to be expelled from his precarious position on the perimeter of the group.

 

"Anyway," Erestor continued, " 'Fin and I were alone in his chambers as he waxed lyrically over the profound attention that Ereinion was paying to him - well, you know how he was with regards to blondes - "

 

"Do I ever!" laughed Lindir.

 

"Well, I soon saw that 'Fin had not been left - unaffected - by Ereinion, and a certain portion of his anatomy was - burgeoning..."

 

" 'Res, you can stop there!" Glorfindel protested. Erestor ignored him, reveling in the rapt attention his slow discourse was engendering.

 

"Sooo.. I offered to aid him, and he me - for, as you know, Gil had that effect on a person ... Well, I stroked 'Fin's cock so slowly, the pressure building in increments, until we were *this* close -"

 

Instinctively the edhil bent forward in their eagerness as Erestor indicated, with fingers brought close together, the proximity of their completion; unconsciously panting as they imagined the erotic moment...

 

"When Mudolwen entered with fresh bedding and ruined all!"

 

Erestor's explosive denouement broke the spell, causing the friends to laugh with him as Glorfindel protested once more.

 

"We did not finish, therefore it does not count!"

 

The laughter broke forth again and Rúmil sat open-mouthed, surprised that such prominent and respected ellyn could be so frivolous in their private lives. In his naïveté he exclaimed, "Ai, Gil-Galad's court at Lindon - that is almost ancient history!"

 

The companions fell silent, immediately looking at Erestor, waiting with bated breath for the reaction that they knew would follow. The tall elf looked sharply at the youth, his mood somewhat darkened.

 

"Not so long ago!" he snapped. "*I* was there! And I am not ancient!"

 

Rúmil, caught in an innocently-spoken remark, fumbled over his response. "I suppose, not *that* old..." His embarrassment increased at Lindir and Saelbeth bent in unrestrained mirth. Erestor glowered.

 

"How old do you think I am?" he asked in irritation.

 

Rúmil looked at the dark-haired elf, so beautiful in his fearsome inquisition. Glancing at the ellyn about him he saw that their lips were pursed in eager anticipation of his answer - an answer they obviously thought would not please the prideful counsellor. The boy's mind went blank and his stumbling tongue betrayed him.

 

"Er - six thousand years?"

 

The shock on Erestor's face was as an illumination of his vanity for the Noldo was secretly fearful of any signs of aging, even the mild maturity that older elves gained. With a snarl he swiftly repudiated the added millennia.

 

"Orc shit! I am but three thousand years upon this earth!" he spat at the helpless boy.

 

Rúmil paled, knowing well that he had displeased the senior elf. He made to apologise but Erestor brushed him off. The ellon had quickly recognized that his outburst had seriously endangered his offhand reputation and he now raked his piercing eyes over the gathered revelers, seeking to divert attention from his slip. He curled his lips in anticipation as his gaze landed upon a young trader from Edhellond. Ah, he had noted *that* one on a previous visit by the coastal elves. He turned and placed his glass upon the bar behind him, bestowing a condescending smirk upon his friends.

 

"Duty calls, mellyn nín," he drawled and within a knowing nod of the head to the young trader, he captured his prize and motioned him out of the tavern.

 

The three older elves looked with sympathy upon Rúmil, noting his obvious distress at his unwitting error and his abandonment by the beautiful counsellor. Even as they all left the inn to pursue the pleasures of 'Melethryn', Glorfindel looked back at the saddened boy.

 

"Ai no, Glorfindel!" Lindir hissed as he saw the direction of the seneschal's gaze. "Do not take upon yourself the consequences of Erestor's leavings." He nodded his head towards Rúmil who stood alone, aside, miserable.

 

"Aye," Saelbeth concurred. "He imposes upon your friendship overmuch."

 

It was true; in his love and friendship for Erestor the golden lord behaved out of his normally confident and authoritive character but still - the lad was so young...

 

Thus it was that the two elves walked in unlikely companionship back to the main house where Glorfindel guided Rúmil to a side passage to the rear of the edifice. Here they entered a small but bustling hall, a room that was warm, well lit and welcoming and filled with chattering elves. The occupants were seated at long tables, partaking of hearty broths, cut meats and freshly-baked breads that issued forth from the attached kitchen. Rúmil looked at Glorfindel enquiringly.

 

"This is not the hall where we dined this evening," he commented. Glorfindel shook his head.

 

"The inhabitants of Imladris congregate in the Main Dining Hall for breakfast and dinner, and the main kitchen caters for those large repasts in their immense ovens and roasting fires. However there are many elves whose duties do not allow for fixed mealtimes - the patrol guards, the farmers, the traders - and so this smaller kitchen is always open to them for heartier fare than is served to Lord Elrond." He hesitated for a moment. "It is also a place where those of us who embrace the duality of our natures can be free to... express ourselves within the confines of Imladris without fear of disgust from those who do not understand us. Mudolwen rules in this hall and she will brook no outbursts of intolerance here."

 

It was on that note that from the kitchen emerged an elleth. Rúmil's eyes widened in astonishment, for the elleth was like none he had seen before. The Firstborn of Ilúvatar were renowned for their gentle grace, extreme beauty and elegant bearing. *This* elleth had strangely strayed from the norm. At best she could be called comely, shorter than most of her kin and lacking the slenderness so characteristic of elven kind. Her red hair, so much brighter than the usual muted tones found in some of the Noldor, was tumbled upon the crown of her head and wrapped in a scarf of sparkling rainbow hues. Her gown was similarly bright, but sadly clashed with the scarf. On seeing Glorfindel with Rúmil her face lit up.

 

"Well, boys - how goes your night?" Her eyes travelled over Rúmil, making him feel as if he was a prize bull at the cattle market. "My, you *are* a pretty one! All the ellyn are watching *you* tonight, pen neth!"

 

A disbelieving Rúmil quickly glanced about him to check the veracity of her remarks.

 

"Now," she continued, "What may I bring you? You younglings need *some* of your nourishment off a plate!"

 

"We are only here for food, not to give you fodder for gossip, Mudolwen. I will have the stew, but without the remarks, and the boy will have the same."

 

Mudolwen nodded, not taking the seneschal's sharp tone amiss. Rúmil gaped after her.

 

"I have never seen the likes of *her* before!"

 

Glorfindel curved his lips in a wry smile. "Mudolwen *is* somewhat unique..." He looked down at the youth and hesitated for a moment. In another time - and in another situation - he could have liked this young ellon, but...

 

"Look, Rúmil, about Erestor -"

 

Rúmil looked up, disappointment in his eyes.

 

"I came especially to see him, but he does not want to know me! I thought..."

 

"That you would be his lover?" Glorfindel shook his head. "One thing that you need to know about Erestor - he does not take 'lovers' in the long term. He does not 'do' love."

 

Rúmil shook his head, reluctant hope still evident in his eyes. "You know not what he did last night - how he kissed me, how we loved… You do not know…"

 

"I know this - Erestor looks after himself, first and last. He is his own ellon - no excuses, no apologies, no regrets. You were with him for one night - do not expect anything more." The boy looked down sullenly and Glorfindel perceived rebellion in him. "And when you leave here do *not* go after him, eh? It is as he said in the inn - he has had you."

 

Mudolwen returned at that moment, laden with bowls of thick, appetizing stew.

 

"Eat up, pin nith! You have to keep your strength up!"

 

Rúmil was surprised when Glorfindel looked up at the elleth, a gentle and grateful smile upon his lips - and even more so when the ancient Vanya leant over to kiss her on the cheek.

 

"Hannon le, naneth estannen."

 

"You are welcome, 'Fin nín," the female responded. They both turned to look at Rúmil with indulgent smiles upon their faces. Cringing with embarrassment, the youth smiled weakly…

 

****

 

Erestor preened, well satisfied with his appearance in the looking glass. His expected visitor may have been just a human, but that would be no excuse to let his standards slip. He turned once more to view the tight black leggings and silver-shot tunic that skimmed his tone body. Yes, he was still the most handsome male in Imladris - of any race. A banging on his chamber door brought him back to the present. He strolled slowly to grasp the handle upon the heavy oak wood, his loins stirring in anticipation of a night of bodily pleasure. He gave the door a sharp pull.

 

"Valar, what are *you* doing here!"

 

The boy - Rúmil, yes that was his name - stuttered as he fought to frame a reply.

 

"S- sorry, I just -"

 

"You cannot arrive at my door unannounced."

 

Rúmil seemed taken aback by the rejection in Erestor's voice.

 

"I just want to talk! Please..?" The youth made as if to enter the room, but Erestor played his hand upon the slim chest, barring his way.

 

"There is nothing to talk about." A movement in the dim light of the corridor alerted him to the presence of the visitor he *had* been expecting. The muscled human nodded to him assuredly.

 

"I see I found the right room," the man uttered confidently, the deep tones reminding Erestor of the reason that he had cut this male out of the crowd at 'Melethryn'. Unconsciously he licked his lips, evaluating the well-toned body he intended to fuck this night. He found himself well pleased.

 

"Who is this?" The man ran his gaze over the boy who stood dumbstruck at the door. "I have no objection to another, but not a child."

 

Erestor narrowed his eyes. The boy was no child - he knew that well from the night before. There had been something wild, something untamed about his Glawaren that had embellished the night beyond a casual encounter. Still…

 

"He is just going," he purred, longing to shut the door upon the boy and shut out the hurt he saw within those sea blue orbs.

 

"You don't even *know* him!" the boy exhorted angrily.

 

"Well, I was hoping to get to," the counselor slurred, lust igniting even as he continued to admire the human. "Now, scamper back to your room, little boy, and leave the adults to play."

 

The arrow shot home, piercing the boy's ardour. With a whimper Rúmil turned and hurried down the corridor to the outer exit, shaking at the easy and callous dismissal. Erestor turned back to the man, intent on claiming his prize.

 

"That was not a very kind thing to do."

 

Erestor's eyebrow arched, in an unconscious imitation of his lord's, startled at the man's compassion for his youthful pursuer. "Who *are* you, Father Rhíw?"

 

The man just stared at him. Erestor exhaled heavily. Elbereth! The trouble that boy caused! Surely the man would not leave just because he had been unkind to an infatuated brat? Yes, quite possibly - and his member was reminding him that it had not been attended to for some hours.

 

"Fine! I will go speak with him! And you - do not…touch anything whilst I am gone," he snapped.

 

The boy had not gone far, had barely made it outside this wing of the house and Erestor found him leaning dejectedly against a tree near the bottom of the path. As soon as Rúmil realized that he had been followed he pulled himself away from the trunk and started down the path.

 

"Do *not* walk away from me," the dark elf called as he walked after him. "I have just left a stranger in my chamber to come talk to you - so, talk!"

 

Rúmil halted, but did not turn to look at him. Erestor came directly behind him. "You need to understand something -" the ellon began.

 

"You do not 'do' relationships."

 

Erestor nodded at the words, knowing full well from where they had originated.

 

"You have been talking to 'Fin."

 

The boy could contain his hurt no longer. "You truly *will* fuck anyone! He is human, and brutish, and *ugly*!" A sob came through even as he desperately tried to control his breaking emotions. "And I - I really lo-"

 

"Rúmil!" Erestor broke through, leaning towards the slender boy, forcing him to retreat against a low wall so that he could not escape the words that would complete the cracking of his heart. "I - have - had - you," the dark elf enunciated. "Last night we wanted each other - edhel to edhel. It was fun. That is all."

 

"That is *all*?"

 

Erestor shrugged. "What else?" He sobered, knowing that this was a lesson he had to teach Rúmil - to teach him as well as he had taught himself, so many centuries ago. "Listen well, pen neth. I do not believe in love. The physical act is all that ever matters to me. Love is just an excuse others use, to do what I do - to fuck without a pretense of an emotion that is not real. In and out - pleasure without pain - honest and open, and without the hurt that comes from the discovery that the 'romance' and the 'true love' were naught but a well-worn cliché. If you want to accept those values, then bow to convention and choose a pretty elleth and be wed."

 

The boyish figure began to tremble. "I do not want that! I want you!"

 

"You cannot have me! I am too ol-" He broke off, biting the tongue that had almost revealed his vanity once more. "You are too young for me - you are but fifty, and I am two thousand years old."

 

"Three!"

 

Erestor acknowledged the hit with a wry smile, nodding in admission. "Very well - three thousand. All the more reason." He began to back away, for to linger would give the youth more of a chance to argue and for some reason Erestor knew that that would be a danger to him. "Now, go home and do your studies, pen neth."

 

Rúmil watched his retreat, his eyes filling with tears that blurred his vision of the beautiful ellon. How he wanted Erestor! It *was* love, he knew it! And he knew that he could have made Erestor love him, if the dark elf had but given him a chance. Weeping openly and with his face crumpling as he cried, Rúmil of Lórien turned and ran into the night, too late to hide his shame and grief at the final loss of hope.

 

The dark counsellor stood and watched the fleeing boy, valiantly trying to dismiss the unusual pangs of conscience that had stung his otherwise unacknowledged heart. Trying to ignore the admiration he felt for the tenacity of a mere child and refusing to admit to a poignant wish that he could have said anything but what he had.

 

He turned and walked back into the house - away from the complexity of sweetly-offered love, to the comfortable anonymity of two panting bodies linked in mutual, uncomplicated fulfillment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish:
> 
> ellyn - male elves  
> ellon - male elf (sing.)  
> meldir - male friend  
> pen neth - little one  
> ellyn - male elves (plural)  
> pin nith - young ones (pl.)  
> Hannon le - thank you  
> naneth estannen - 'named' mother  
> ' Father Rhíw ' - Father Winter/Santa Claus!  
> elleth - female elf (sing.)  
> mellyn nín - my friends
> 
>  
> 
> Elvish Names from the Sindarin Name Finder, http://www.councilofelrond.com/index.php
> 
> Mudolwen : Deborah ('working maiden')  
> Faelon : Justin


	3. Stalking his Prey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story - it was an experiment in 'translating' one fandom's characters into another 'world'.

"He said I was 'just a fuck'! He does not wish to see me again."

 

Arwen looked at her friend with concern as Rúmil morosely swung his feet over the edge of the large boulder on which they sat by the river in the warmth of the afternoon sun. Her tender heart was panged with sympathy as her friend stared miserably at the gently-swirling waters of the Bruinen, for she had invested much in this seemingly romantic love story.

 

"I am truly sorry, Rúmil," she said quietly. "Although I have heard something of Erestor's reputation, despite my father's illusions as to the innocence of my ears, I have always thought that underneath the coolness of his outer persona there lay a softer core." Arwen glanced at him. "There is no way, however, that he can avoid seeing you - not in Imladris. We are too small a community."

 

Rúmil shrugged, raising vivid blue eyes to meet her own.

 

"I love him, Arwen, and I thought that I could make him love me. I *know* I could, if he would but let me."

 

With a thoughtful expression, Arwen laid a consolatory hand upon his arm. She hesitated a moment before she spoke.

 

"When I had my failed love affair last summer -"

 

Rúmil started, with obvious surprise upon his face.

 

"A love affair? You? Arwen, you will not be of Age until later this year!"

 

Arwen snorted. "So? My parents do not have to know everything that I do, and nothing untoward happened." She laughed; a tinkling sound that was full of mischief. "After all, we 'elflings' must learn how to interact with our peers in a 'discreet and delicate manner.'"

 

At that Rúmil sniggered, for Arwen had mimicked with an uncanny accuracy her maternal grandmother and a lecture that he, as an elf of the Golden Wood, had heard many times.

 

"Anyway," she continued blithely, "when it ended, I was determined not to give him the satisfaction of evidence of a 'broken heart' and so I flirted mightily with others, and as a result it kindled within him a flame of jealousy."

 

Her eyes lit up, excitement lurking in their depths.

 

"Yes! That is what you should do - return to the Woodman's Inn tonight and find someone else, Rúmil. Show Erestor that he is not the only ellon you can attract. Show him what he is missing."

 

Rúmil looked at her doubtfully. Is that what he really wished to do? Would the effort be worth the risk of further humiliation? Was Erestor worth it? The young ellon remembered that night, that wonderful night - the heat, the exhilaration- and the tenderness that Erestor had expressed through that casual façade.

 

Yes, the counsellor *was* worth it! But the task was daunting.

 

"Will you come with me, Arwen?"

 

"Me?" she squeaked, taken somewhat aback at Rúmil's unexpected request. She grimaced. "Surely I would not be welcome in such a place. Or, even worse, what if a like-minded female should approach me? What would I say?"

 

Rúmil smirked, imagining the daughter of Elrond in such a situation.

 

"Oh, I do not think anyone would be that presumptive - or blind..."

 

Arwen faltered, taking a moment to interpret the implied (and joking) insult. Her eyes widened in shock, but she recovered quickly when Rúmil laughed at her expression.

 

"You orch!" she exclaimed. She gave the youth a mighty push, grinning in satisfied delight and revenge as Rúmil flew off the rock and into the cold waters below.

 

****

 

Erestor glowered at the paperwork that littered his desk: it created a stark contrast to the normal state of pristine order. Glaring at the useless figures that had been presented to him by two of his most worthless underlings, he exhaled in exasperation.

 

"Something wrong, Erestor?"

 

The auburn-haired counsellor looked up and smiled wryly. Tossing the faulty papers onto his desk again he leaned back and stretched his long frame, not noting the wistful lust that flickered in his best friend's eye at the sight of his lightly-muscled body.

 

"Just Aglargelair and Erynlann, the 'fuck-up gwanûn', and their usual attempts at being the most useless idiots in Imladris. Elbereth, I seem to spend half of my existence correcting their mistakes. Take them to Mirkwood on your next visit and introduce them to a few spiders, would you?"

 

Glorfindel laughed and came to perch on the edge of Erestor's large oak desk, unwittingly drawing a raised eyebrow from the dark elf at the intrusion onto his workspace. Glorfindel did not catch the hint.

 

"Take a break, meldir," he enthused, "and come with me tonight to the Inn. We could then continue on to Melethron."

 

Erestor nodded.

 

"Yes, I could do with a break - a chance to ease my body and thus divert my mind."

 

He smirked and stretched once again, this time subtly encouraging Glorfindel's attention. Admiration, from whatever source, was always acceptable to the counsellor. He had spent many centuries building his ego, and keeping Glorfindel on a long leash was an easy way to stroke it.

 

Erestor suddenly shuddered, a little ashamed at this small admission of his otherwise unconscious manipulation of his friend. He loved Glorfindel, his friend and his gwador - but not in that way. The golden lord had been a refuge in times of stress and grief and, with Mudolwen and Síredol, he was one of the few who were privy to the desperation of Erestor's childhood. He would never risk that friendship. He knew that in unacknowledged insecurity he had encouraged Glorfindel and he regretted that, but he did not wish to lose the closest bond he had ever allowed.

 

Rising, Erestor reached for his friend and grasped the back of the seneschal's neck, bringing their foreheads together. He then brought their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.

 

"Love you, 'Fin. Always have, always will."

 

Glorfindel embraced the beautiful edhel he adored, drawing him closer in his arms. Even if he never attained the physical relationship with Erestor that he longed for, he vowed silently to never to allow, to any others, admission to the closeness of this precious love.

 

****

 

Once every month, the elven colony of Rivendell was host to a market frequented by not only the wandering traders that passed through on their way to Bree or to the Shire, or over the Dimrill Stairs to Laketown and the settlements there; but also the local farmers and craftsmen of Imladris. By encouraging the free trade of goods Lord Elrond hoped to foster closer ties and alliances between the communities of Middle Earth, ties that would hold fast when darker times came.

 

For Rúmil, more used to the hallowed and quiet groves of Lothlórien, the colourful spectacle of the many tables and kiosks were a delight to his eyes. Spread with goods as diverse as sweetmeats and candies to leather saddles and ironmongery, the few coins that jangled in his purse just begged to be spent.

 

Now dry and much refreshed after his impromptu dunking, Rúmil had accompanied Arwen to the fair and the promise of refreshments of a more edible nature. A few pence had secured them bubbling fruit pies from a stall that was serviced by Mudolwen, the elleth that Rúmil had encountered a few nights before with Glorfindel. As they strolled away from the gregarious - and incongruously dressed - female, the young elf decided to press his friend for details. Arwen obliged with delight.

 

"Mudolwen? Aiya, she is such a generous-hearted person yet she has known so much sorrow in her life. Believe it or not, she is an elf of Aman."

 

Rúmil gasped.

 

"Mudolwen? But she -" Words failed him, for it was generally known that the Eldar who had lived under the light of the Two Trees were blessed with a special grace. The homely and hearty Mudolwen did certainly *not* fit established beliefs. Arwen nodded eagerly.

 

"It is true! Mudolwen was a handmaiden in the House of the Golden Flower, in the city of Tirion upon Túna, before she was given the role of nursemaid to the new-born heir of that house."

 

Rúmil blinked in grimacing disbelief. He was not one of the Golden Lord's favourite people.

 

"Do not tell me - Lord Glorfindel?"

 

Arwen nodded once more, chewing another flavorsome bite of the pie before speaking. Rúmil sat on the grass in the shade of a spreading sycamore and gestured for his friend to join him. Seating herself beside him, Arwen continued her lesson.

 

"When the Exodus came and Glorfindel declared his intent to join Lord Finarfin in his journey to Middle Earth, Mudolwen begged to be allowed to travel with her brother Tûr. She had been more of a mother to Glorfindel than his own, and the bond between maid and child was uncommonly strong. Mudolwen and Tûr survived the crossing of the Helcaraxë and, when Turgon finally settled in Gondolin, she became chatelaine to the House of the Golden Flower. Brother and sister escaped from the fall of that city but it was as witnesses to the fall of their beloved 'son'."

 

Rúmil shifted uneasily in his place, looking across with new respect to the jovial elleth who greeted all with warmth - and a sharp quip of the tongue if mutual respect was not forthcoming.

 

"How came she to Imladris, then?" he asked, genuinely interested in this unusual female.

 

"Mudolwen was working in Gil-Galad's court when Glorfindel returned from the Halls of Mandos. Her joy was unbounded, and from that time she has remained with him, following him here to Rivendell when the High King requested that my father establish the haven. Mudolwen could have gained high rank through Glorfindel, but she chose her kitchen - her own kingdom - where she could enjoy the company of her 'boys'."

 

Arwen blushed at Rúmil's inquiring glance, and seemed somewhat embarrassed. The young elleth shifted awkwardly where she sat, then looked defiantly at him.

 

"As much as my parents try to protect me, I am no simpering maid. I understand that despite my father's ordinances and my mother and grandmother's prejudice there are many like you and Erestor who prefer to love their own gender. Mudolwen has always supported Glorfindel in his sexuality, and has used what influence she has to protect him and those like him."

 

Rúmil smiled and extended his hand to hers, squeezing it in grateful acknowledgement of her non-judgmental heart.

 

"Mudolwen must have been overwhelmed with joy at Lord Glorfindel's re-birth," he prompted. Rúmil still was bemused by conflict of myth and fact, and found it hard to reconcile the legend of the mighty warrior with the petulant ellon he had come to know. As if she could read his mind, Arwen expanded upon those thoughts.

 

"Indeed she was - her joy was overwhelming, as was her protective nature. Apparently Glorfindel found his rebirth to be traumatic; it devolved to Mudolwen and Lord Erestor, who had been assigned to reintroduce Glorfindel to society, to help him come to terms with an absence that spanned almost an Age."

 

The dark-haired maiden leaned forward, urging Rúmil to treat these confidences with utmost sincerity.

 

"Make no mistake, Rúmil - however he has appeared to you with regard to Lord Erestor, Glorfindel is still the warrior that faced a balrog without hesitation in order to save the family of his king. He is still an ellon of honour and integrity; he has served my father, his kindred and his people with every ounce of his soul. Do not underestimate him."

 

Rúmil nodded reluctantly, accepting the admonition for what it was - a warning not to allow any personal feelings to spill over into public demonstration. He was yet a student, a probationary in Imladris; one word from Glorfindel, mighty warrior, Lord of Gondolin and seneschal of Rivendell, could separate the young ellon from the object of his desire - Erestor - forever.

 

His disturbing reflections were diverted by a happy cry from Arwen.

 

"Naneth!" She leapt to her feet, catching hold of Rúmil's tunic to haul him up beside her. "Come, Rúmil - let me introduce you to my mother."

 

Rúmil blanched as he saw Arwen's mother walking in comfortable companionship with Síredol and her child, for he had omitted from his tale-telling to Arwen the more embarrassing details of his first encounter with Lady Celebrían, namely his 'outing' as a lover of men. The whiteness of his face reddened to a blush as he saw the Lady blink in recognition of his face, if nothing else.

 

"Nana," Arwen was saying as she pulled her friend forward. "This is Rúmil of Lothlórien, of whom I have spoken."

 

Celebrían bent her silver head in acknowledgement. "Ah yes, Rúmil - I remember, even if others do not."

 

Rúmil's blush increased, knowing that the Lady alluded to that awkward scene in the Halls of Healing and Erestor's casual introduction at that time. He drew upon his training in the Golden Wood and bowed elegantly, hand to heart.

 

"Lady Celebrían, Lady Síredol. It is good to see you again - and Belegon too." He saw Síredol's eyes widen in inquiry and realised that she had not made the same connection as Celebrían. "I was privileged to be present on the night of your son's birth," he clarified. Understanding dawned on the mother's fair visage.

 

"Of course - you are the bestower of his name!" She drew back the shawl to reveal the child's face. "Belegon is well, as you can see."

 

Rúmil did see, and saw too the familiar scraps of auburn hair and the intense stare of gold-flecked hazel eyes, so reminiscent of the Chief Counsellor of Imladris. What had Erestor said - that Síredol's husband had been his cousin? They must have been as identical twins, for the child was the image of the dark elf.

 

Celebrían's voice cut through his musings.

 

"Arwen, were you not due to meet with Master Lindir some time ago?"

 

Arwen jumped in alarm. "Aiya, my music lesson!" she squealed in hasty remembrance. "I forgot! I am sorry, Nana."

 

Celebrían looked at her sternly. "I am not the one to whom you should apologize." The Lady of Imladris shooed her daughter away. "Hurry now - do not keep him waiting any longer."

 

The three remaining elves watched as the young elleth ran lightly down the path back to the Last Homely House, and then Celebrían turned her eyes back upon Rúmil. The young edhel noticed for the first time the market purchases the ladies carried between them, and spied an opportunity to extend his contact with the elleth who seemed to know Erestor so well. He held out his hands in offering.

 

"May I help you carry your burden?" he asked diffidently. "Or assist with Belegon? I love elflings; they are so rare in the Golden Wood."

 

Síredol laughed. "It is a dangerous request to make unless you are serious - Belegon is not a good sleeper and I may take you up on it frequently!"

 

Rúmil grinned and took both their parcels, thus earning smiles of approbation from both females.

 

****

 

The sun was setting as Erestor crossed the inner courtyard, its dying rays illuminating the puffball clouds in shades of red and purple. The sky was a testament to the glorious Song of the Ainur and any other Firstborn would have stopped to marvel at its beauty and to give thanks to Ilúvatar for his bountiful blessings - but not Erestor. If there had been a witness to see his subtle gaze at the colourful sky, they would have seen in his eyes a lingering appreciation of its beauty - but no thanks given to the Creator.

 

Erestor's faith in the power of the supposedly omnipotent Being had been beaten out of him in the desperate years of his childhood, when he had sacrificed his body and his innocence to save the untouched souls of those he loved. Although now he used the names of the Valar in frustrated expletives, neither they nor their Begetter had ever answered him when he had pleaded in urgent prayer. Thus he had faith only in a few living edhil and had love for fewer, one of whom he was heading to visit now. Reaching his destination, Erestor tapped lightly on the beech wood door. He winced when he saw who answered it.

 

"You! Well, it is about time - it has been two days since Síredol's babe was born, two days with no evidence of your supposed 'paternal' interest in the child."

 

Erestor brushed past Celebrían into Síredol's chambers, waving in her disapproving face a cloth toy he had selected in the market that day.

 

"Well, I am here now," he snarked at the elleth. "So, where is my foster son?"

 

"Here he is," said Síredol from her high-backed chair by the unlit hearth. Erestor stepped forward, his face softening as he glimpsed the newborn babe in her arms - then freezing as he saw who sat with her.

 

"Suilad, Erestor!"

 

The youth grinned happily at him from his seat upon a low stool beside the elleth, and Erestor was dazzled once more by the bright smile upon the boy's face. A smile that seemed to summon the setting Anor back above the horizon once more...

 

"Erestor, you remember Rúmil *this* time, do you not?"

 

Erestor turned and glared at Celebrían, annoyed at the smirk upon her face that showed her delight in his discomfort. He recovered quickly.

 

"I prefer to name him my persistent shadow, for it seems that the *pen neth* insists on dogging my heels!" he said flinging himself into the opposing chair, trying in his speech to convey a disinterest in the boy - a disinterest that parts of his body gave lie to. Even as he said the harsh words, sending such a shadow fleeting across the beautiful young face, he knew that the 'shadow' epithet was a false one, for the boy's fëa glowed. Glawaren, he had named him first...

 

Síredol's continuing conversation drew him from unwelcome and sentimental contemplation.

 

"Rúmil was telling us that he is a keen archer and I am encouraging him to enter the youth competition that Lord Elrond is sponsoring."

 

Rúmil nodded eagerly, unaware that his enthusiasm was endearing him to more than two of the adults in the room.

 

"I long to be a Galadhel, as my two brothers are, but my father has other plans for my future. Haldir has already fulfilled his assigned destiny by attaining the rank of Marchwarden, and Orophin, through his determination, eluded the mantle of Counsellor that my father sought for one of his sons. Now my father seeks to cast that mantle on to me."

 

"But - but why?" Síredol asked, her confusion obvious.

 

Rúmil shrugged. "Power, prestige - position is everything to my sire. With all due respect, Lady Celebrían, my family was kin to King Amroth. My father holds his lineage on a par with - if not superior to - that of the Lord and Lady."

 

Lady Celebrían acknowledged the truth in what Rúmil said, for she remembered his father and the esteem he placed in his royal kinsman. Even so, her own upbringing and the emphasis her own parents had placed on a child's duty to family and rank nagged at her conscience.

 

"Well...," she hesitated, "we must respect our elders and repose in them the trust that they wish only the best for us..."

 

"Oh for goodness sake!" Erestor exploded, with fury upon his face. "That is orc shit, Celebrían. Some sacrifices to family pride should never be made, and," - his eyes narrowed and his now quiet words were enunciated deliberately - "you know that better than anyone..."

 

Rúmil was startled as Celebrían paled at the dark elf's admonition, and a bleak look crossed her face. He was equally surprised as Erestor's expression momentarily softened in unexplained sympathy before resuming its usual bored mien.

 

Erestor now turned to Rúmil, leaning forward in his chair to emphasize his words. "As your parents made their choices, now you must make your own. Rely on no one but yourself." He relaxed back again, smirking, and his tone assumed an affected nonchalance.

 

"Anyway, I approve of your taking up this new challenge. Perhaps it will divert your attention and stop you from stalking me."

 

The counsellor aimed the soft toy he had been holding at the youth's head, throwing it firmly but without malice in a physical punctuation of his words. Rúmil laughed as he easily caught it and - in a moment of unthinking bravado - he tossed the toy back at Lord Elrond's most trusted advisor, hitting him squarely in the chest.

 

"Do not flatter yourself," he mocked, satisfied to see the surprised look on the dark elf's face.

 

Celebrían's silvery laugh rang through the room in open delight at Erestor's obvious chagrin.

 

"Oh, we like Rúmil! Rúmil can stay!"

 

****

 

The Woodman's Inn was already bustling when Erestor finally made his entrance that evening. Fully aware of the lustful stares he attracted, the dark counsellor bypassed his admirers to make his way to where Lindir and Saelbeth were lounging against the weathered pine bar. Erestor reached out his hand and blithely deprived Saelbeth of his tankard, briskly downing a large mouthful of ale.

 

"Suilad, mellyn. How fares your night?"

 

Saelbeth shrugged his shoulders, ignoring Erestor's theft. He was well used to the advisor's inflammatory behavior.

 

"Just observing the crowd, espying potential conquests."

 

Erestor snorted. "What - for you?"

 

Saelbeth blushed. "Well, you never know," he said. Erestor patted him on the head in false approbation.

 

"For you, Saelbeth, we unfortunately do know." He looked around the room, seeking his gwador. "Where is 'Fin?" he asked.

 

Lindir gestured behind him and Erestor turned to follow his direction. What he saw was a gesticulating seneschal remonstrating with a confused Mudolwen.

 

"What's wrong with him?" Erestor frowned. Glorfindel and Mudolwen had a close relationship - perhaps too close. When in the presence of the elleth, the Vanya seemed to forget all about the independent thinker and forceful strategist he had been in Gondolin and reverted to behaving like a rebellious elfling.

 

'On the other hand,' mused the advisor in the privacy of his thoughts, 'perhaps the history books lied and he was always immature...'

 

He was drawn away from his contemplations by Lindir's speculations.

 

"Methinks that Lord Glorfindel loves his foster-mother well enough - except when she chooses to socialize in the same watering hole," Lindir commented astutely.

 

Erestor shrugged.

 

"In this place attendance is unlimited as long as the revelers' ethics are similarly unshackled. Let Mudolwen and Tûr drink where they please."

 

Surveying his potential trysts for the night, Erestor contemplated the array of eligible males. Of course his criteria for an acceptable coupling included an ellon's desirability and the virtue of never having been fucked before by the Noldo. One particular elf - dark, lean and alluring - caught his eye and seemed to be responsive to his appraisal. Erestor straightened from his relaxed pose, carelessly discarding the now empty tankard on the counter top.

 

"Well, I have seen my entertainment for the evening - namárië, mellyn nín."

 

"Do not miss the other entertainment at Melethron tonight, Erestor!" Lindir called after him. "The miners are here from the Hithaeglir and you know what that means - pretty, pretty, pretty!"

 

The two abandoned elves, now made three as Glorfindel joined them at the bar, could only look on in envy as Erestor strolled towards his expectant conquest. Lindir sighed as he witnessed the easy and probably erotic conversation between advisor and prey.

 

"He makes it look so easy," moaned the bard.

 

"Who does?" asked the newly-arrived warrior. Saelbeth gestured towards their beautiful friend, now in deep flirtation with the visiting elf.

 

"Who do you think?" Saelbeth patted Glorfindel on the shoulder, knowing from the frown upon the warrior's face that a distraction from Erestor's games would be desirable. He sought to change the subject. "So - what is wrong with Mudolwen?"

 

Glorfindel huffed, and Lindir just *knew* that a whine would follow.

 

"Why does she *have* to 'support' and 'approve' of everything I do?" the golden lord grumbled. "Why must she drink here, of all places?"

 

Saelbeth glanced across the room at where Mudolwen was indulging in a quiet conversation with her brother. He turned and looked up at his friend, who was still glowering at the elleth.

 

"Well," the secretary noted, "It is not as if she can partake of a drink in just any public house - not when Lord Elrond has made clear his dislike of females frequenting such places. Your naneth estannen is well-loved and respected here."

 

Glorfindel's response was not as Saelbeth expected.

 

"Manwë's balls! What is *he* doing here!"

 

Startled at the sudden turn of Glorfindel's attention, the secretary and the bard could only watch in bewilderment as Glorfindel strode purposefully towards the other end of the long counter, and Erestor.

 

Glorfindel sharply rapped Erestor on the shoulder, abruptly withdrawing him from his flirtation with the object of his transient attentions. The advisor was irked by the intrusion into his dalliance and only refrained from a biting expletive because Glorfindel was his gwador.

 

"What now, 'Fin?" he snapped impatiently, not diverting his eyes from the evening's diversion. "Can you not see that I am ... busy." Erestor slowly ran a finger up the seam of the ellon's hide jacket, the sensuous touch of flesh-to-leather seemingly a promise of more intimate touches to come. Egads, but he was aroused!

 

"What is *he* doing here?"

 

Erestor winced as the golden lord's voice dropped into that irritating whine. It always seemed to precede some mind-numbingly boring moan by 'Fin on topics that Erestor could truthfully care less about. Nevertheless he gave into the very real bond of friendship that he felt for Glorfindel. Heaving a sigh, he answered the prompting question with another.

 

"Who?"

 

"Him!" Glorfindel gestured wildly across the bar to the spot where he had left Mudolwen. "Your little elfling from the other night! Aiya, it seems that wherever we turn recently, he is there - like a burr stuck to leggings, he is impossible to shake off. Arrgh - now he is talking to my Nana!"

 

Unable to resist, Erestor tore his attention from his flirtation to his friend - or rather, to the flame that was igniting the Vanya's ire.

 

Rúmil.

 

Glawaren.

 

As Glorfindel had bewailed, the young elf was talking to Mudolwen and Tûr and the discussion seemed to be an inquisition on Rúmil's part. Erestor smiled smugly for he could guess that he was the topic of the elfling's inquiry. For certain, the young galadhel was a determined creature and would surely one day prove to be an undaunted hunter of beasts - or men. He chuckled at the amusing thought. Of equal amusement to him was the figure that stood beside the youth, for despite the shroud of her hooded cloak the slender figure had to be Arwen. If only her protective parents knew...

 

"Leave him alone, 'Fin. He is doing no harm. In fact," Erestor smiled gently, thinking of the witty exchanges between them that had ensued in Síredol's chambers, "he is rather - sweet."

 

"Sweet!?"

 

Erestor ignored the warrior's blustering retort and turned again to the evening's conquest. The smile was immediately wiped from his face, for the place that had been occupied by the delicious elf was now empty. He looked about him in desperate search.

 

"Damnation, Glorfindel! *Now* look what you have done. I have lost him!" The advisor pushed himself violently away from the bar, heading towards the exit. He cast a final admonition back at his blundering gwador.

 

"Fuck you very much, 'Fin!"

 

****

 

Rúmil looked eagerly around the busy room, searching for the one ellon he most desired to find. Despite the bright candles illuminating the drinking establishment, there were plenty of darkened corners for those wishing to avoid close scrutiny. At first glance, the dark counsellor was not to be seen.

 

"He is not here," a voice hissed close to his ear. Rúmil jumped then glared at his female accomplice.

 

"Not yet, but I believe he will be," he replied, hoping furiously in his heart that his wishes would be fulfilled. He searched the room once more and his eyes alighted on a garish yet welcome figure.

 

"There is Mudolwen," Rúmil declared. "Come on!" Without waiting for a response he grasped Arwen's wrist and pulled her further into the room. The daughter of Elrond and Celebrían struggled to keep her hood about her face; something told her that her support of Rúmil in this establishment and of this night was best given anonymously. She found herself colliding with Rúmil's back as he came to a sudden halt in front of Mudolwen and her brother Tûr. He greeted the siblings.

 

"Mae govannen, Mudolwen. I do not know if you remember me..."

 

Mudolwen leaned back, taking in the slender figure of the youth - especially his curvaceous rear.

 

"Aye, I remember you - you are the young lad from Lórien who came to my kitchen with Glorfindel. I never forget such prominent and delightful features!"

 

Rúmil blushed as the bright elleth openly appraised his generous rump, clad as he was in close-fitting tunic and leggings. He squirmed in pleased embarrassment when he realized that Mudolwen had not been the only one in the crowd to admire his physique, as Tûr and a few others had raked him with their eyes. A sharp elbow to his side reminded him of the purpose of his introduction.

 

"Actually, I was seeking Lord Glorfindel's friend - Lord Erestor?"

 

Mudolwen sighed. The arrogant elf had woven his enchantment about another victim, just as an ungol of Mirkwood would fascinate its prey before spinning its sticky web. She could only hope that the ensorcelled boy would shake off the 'glamour' and not be bound as her darling 'Fin was.

 

"There are many who seek the Counsellor," she said softly, weary discouragement in her voice. "He *was* over there a few minutes ago."

 

The clear blue eyes followed her finger but saw only empty spaces at the otherwise littered counter.

 

"Oh. Where - er - where would he go, do you know?"

 

Tûr grinned at him, very aware of and amused by the boy's infatuation with the advisor.

 

"At this time of night? They will be at Melethron."

 

Rúmil shifted eagerly. "That is where we are going," he bluffed, ignoring Arwen's startled and worried stare. Tûr laughed.

 

"Ai, I knew not that they had initiated a junior membership!"

 

Rúmil's face fell.

 

"Melethron has memberships?" he groaned. Mudolwen nodded but Tûr, understanding the boy's disappointment, was already delving into a leather bag attached to his belt.

 

"Because of the widespread hostility towards those of our nature, we have developed unspoken tokens of our unity." Having retrieved the item he sought he opened his hand to reveal the token upon his hand - a leaf shaped out of beaten copper. Tûr caught Rúmil's hand and dropped the token into the upturned palm.

 

"Give my name to the doorkeeper and tell him that I vouch for you - he will arrange to give you a token of your own. In the meantime," he grinned lasciviously, "dazzle your intended partner for me."

 

Rúmil nodded in humble gratitude, struck dumb by Tûr's undemanding belief in him. In his delight he almost missed Mudolwen's admonition of Arwen.

 

"As for you, my young mistress - you had best to return to your bed with all haste. As indulgent as your father is toward you, he would not react well to knowledge of this night time excursion."

 

"Oh but -"

 

Mudolwen waved away her remonstrance.

 

"Lady Arwen, if it was just our own people who populated both the inn and Melethron then perhaps I would sing a different tune, but they do not. There are many here who do not call Rivendell their home, both edhil and men alike, and we cannot repose our trust in their silence." She gestured at her brother, garnering his compliance. "Tûr will escort you home and will ensure that your parents will be none the wiser."

 

A disappointed elleth reluctantly took the arm of the ancient edhel but she made no protest, for she knew that Mudolwen was right. She smiled apologetically at her concerned friend before allowing Tûr to lead her out.

 

"By Elbereth, it has been a long time since I had a beautiful maiden on my arm," Tûr could be heard to say as they exited the tavern. Rúmil turned to Mudolwen, his concern evident on his face.

 

"I did not wish to bring trouble to Arwen," he said in dismay. "I did not realise that Lady Celebrían disliked us so much. She seemed so pleasant when I met her this afternoon."

 

Mudolwen shook her head and laughed, her lips twisted in a wry smile. "No indeed, on a personal basis Celebrían is civil enough - you do not really need to fear her if she has taken you under her protection."

 

"Yet her hatred of Lord Erestor is very evident."

 

Mudolwen cocked her head and looked at Rúmil as if she were contemplating some earnest revelation. "It is not really hatred that she feels; envy would be nearer the mark..." She smiled wryly. "It is said amongst the Ewes of Lothlórien that before her marriage the Silver Queen had a silver tongue."

 

Rúmil shook his head, not understanding her cryptic remark.

 

" 'You's...'?"

 

" 'Ewes'!" Mudolwen laughed. "As in female sheep. They munch on succulent grass?" She laughed again, seeing from the confusion on Rúmil's face that he had not understood her clues. "Never mind," she said, patting his cheek in consolation. "You wish to be elsewhere, and I cannot blame you. So be off with you. But pen neth -"

 

She hesitated then plunged ahead with her doubts, knowing sadly in her heart that the warning would be disregarded nonetheless.

 

"Erestor of Imladris is not a stallion that can easily be tamed. If you can capture his attention for a time then you will be very lucky but, my sweet Glawaren - he *will* throw you off and the resultant fall *will* hurt you."

 

Rúmil nodded in acknowledgement of her concerns, but was undaunted by her warning.

 

"I think that I am a good rider, and will not be dismayed by a tumble at the first hurdle." The smile he gave her lit up his face, the sunshine smile that so endeared the boy to her, and she held her hand to her breast as she watched the slender youth leave to face his challenge.

 

"If anything can release those chains about that edhel's heart," she whispered to herself, "it will be that boy with his smile of Anor."

 

****

 

Rúmil felt that he had died and had journeyed into the afterlife promulgated by the men of the south, into a heaven of hedonistic delight. Passing the doorkeeper had proven easier than he thought, thanks to his invocation of Tûr's name. What he had expected once he had passed that portal he did not know - but this was beyond any expectations he could have conceived.

 

Although the building that housed the entity known as Melethron was not large in a physical sense, the design of the place made it seem spacious. He had entered at ground level, but the interior floor had been dug out and had steps leading down to this lower level. The area had been lined with resilient wood flooring and was now filled with throngs of dancers, mixed with other revelers who drank of the plentiful and various alcoholic beverages as they relaxed at the serving bar that was situated against one wall. A raised dais at the other end of the room provided a stage for the musicians who were playing a rousing melody, totally unlike anything Rúmil had heard at home in Lothlórien. There was almost a primal beat to the music that echoed around the room and the beat seemed to be evoking responses of a sensual nature from the participating crowd.

 

Male danced with male; erotic, expressive, arousing. A pulse drove through his slender frame as he too felt the beat. Human or elf - their bodies wove together in sinuous driving waves of heat and seduction. Their beauty as males was enhanced by the unique lighting features cleverly placed at selected intervals. The lanterns held normal candles but instead of simple glass surrounds the candles shone through roughly-cut crystals, the myriad of facets sending sparkling shafts of rainbow-coloured light about the chamber. Other lanterns had dark shutters, shading select corners that seemed to involve entwined figures and doors that were wedged open with barrels that led to a dark corridor laced with thrilling promise. A shimmering haze filled the air and Rúmil realised that tiny flakes of fine silvery dust floated down from loose sacks suspended from the rafters.

 

Rúmil was stunned - in discovering his sexual leanings as an adolescent he had always thought he was alone in his desires. Even when he had learned from Dinendal that others held the same secret in the repressed environment of the Golden Wood, he still felt that he was alone in a silent minority.

 

The club was crowded - and he was not alone.

 

The young elf looked surreptitiously at the ellyn and men - both those down on the dance floor and those others who observed indolently from the upper gallery that ran about the hall - to see if they noticed what he felt was his most prominent arousal but he quickly realised that he was not alone in his reaction. They seemed confident in their persuasion, their desires and desirability. There were more here than the residents of Imladris could ever account for and the youth realised that his fellows must have gathered from many lands, earnest in their search for kindred spirits.

 

Kindred spirits, kindred souls - but there was but one edhel whose soul called to him. He searched the room for an auburn head and quickly found it - and him. Erestor, Chief Counsellor to Elrond of Rivendell, was swaying languidly upon the lower floor with an ellon - Rúmil could not have known that this was the same elf Erestor had encountered earlier that night. At this very moment he was whispering into the ear of a third. Whatever he had said seemed to please the man for Erestor swiftly placed an arm over each of the others' shoulders, drawing them closer in their grinding motions.

 

Rúmil licked his lips as he watched his erstwhile lover entice the two ellyn, luring them with his swaying motions that held little resemblance to dancing. It did not matter - his ability to dance was not the main focus of Erestor's reputation. His exquisite performance in bed outshone any other slight deficiencies in character or attributes. Rúmil knew that for certain - and tonight would only affirm that conviction. With one fluid motion the young elf pulled off his tunic, baring his upper torso, and stepped forward onto the dance floor.

 

\----

 

High up on the gallery a miner shook the ropes that held the donated sacks of fine mica hanging suspended in the recesses of the roof, releasing delicate slivers of glittering particles to cascade down upon the dancing males. The reflected beams of the already-refracted candlelight caught each shimmering sliver as it passed, enhancing the exotic atmosphere of tonight's gathering and landing upon shoulders and in hair - and upon the bared pale flesh of the glowing Lórien youth who danced with such sensual wantonness, drawing the lustful glances of those who watched and admired.

 

Further along the balustrade Lindir and Glorfindel looked down at the heaving bodies, their ears filled with the wild rhythms and their eyes drawn to Rúmil's primal beat. Amongst those who had also noticed the stripling were Erestor's two companions.

 

Rúmil was as a fisherman casting out his lures, using himself as bait. Deliberately he drew one hand slowly across his chest, brushing lightly over his nipples to tease them to ripening fullness. The other hand moved up to lift the shimmering fall of pale gold hair, sliding forward to caress the slender curve of his exposed and extended neck. As the music and men swirled around him, Rúmil threw his head back and freed those tresses, and they flew around his smooth shoulders like a silken sheath. Fully cognizant of his finest feature he rotated his hips, encased in tightly-stretched leggings, causing his ample package and his even more ample buttocks to capture drooling stares. Mouth open, eyes half-lidded in expressed desire, he was a catch waiting to be caught - a succulent fish waiting to be landed.

 

They came to him, Erestor's potentials, drawn away from sultry experience by the promise of youth. One fore, one aft, the ellyn turned from the surprised advisor to the satisfied boy and trapped him between them, moving chest-to-chest, groin-to-ass in a dance of unspoken but obvious intentions. One would have thought that Rúmil of Lórien would be well satisfied with the attentions of two handsome and lithesome males - but they were but foils, stepping stones to his true goal.

 

Erestor, now alone, allowed a ghost of an appreciative smile soften the ire of abandonment.

 

Never to be underestimated in his sharp understanding, Lindir recognized Rúmil's deft maneuver and could not resist in adding his own spice to the mix. The bard leaned across to touch his lips against Glorfindel's ear and raised his voice to be heard over the pounding drums. Not letting his eyes stray from the desirable form below, there was a note of gloating teasing in his voice as he addressed his friend.

 

"What *is* the boy doing?"

 

Glorfindel did not answer but stared instead at the subtle challenge being given and answered.

 

\----

 

Erestor watched as Rúmil took the ellyn away from him with an ease he could only envy. A virgin only a few days before, the boy now showed hidden strength and determination in his successful ploy. Such determination deserved to be rewarded - at least, that is how Erestor rationalized it later. At this moment he could only focus on one thing, one issue. One person.

 

Rúmil.

 

Erestor moved towards the trio, drawn in inexplicable need to reclaim him whom he had initiated. Raising both arms high, he brought them down on either side of Rúmil as barriers between the boy and his former admirers. With easy yet firm strength he pushed the ellyn away and slipped into the newly-created space, pressing up against the youth. Rúmil responded eagerly, relishing the triumph of his strategy and the hard evidence of Erestor's desire.

It was not so much a dance between two males as it was vertical ravishment. Erestor grasped the boy's slender hip bones and drew their groins close, grinding fulgent rods together in increasing lust and heat. Tilting back his head in a gesture of submission, Rúmil gasped as white teeth nibbled at his collar bone and soft lips caressed the pale and sensitive skin in the hollow of his throat - then moaned in searing lust when a hot tongue followed a rasping trail up under his chin, dragging flesh and stimulating nerve endings. Finally the questing mouth claimed his own, in a kiss that spoke of need, and want, and urgent desire. Rúmil flung his arms about the advisor's neck and melted into the kiss, his heart full and pounding with an answering cry.

As Erestor delved into that sweet cavern his exploring tongue met with its mate - but there was no duel. This was not a play of experience versus youth, nor a mismatch of ages. Erestor recognized now - in this moment and against all possible expectation - that he and Rúmil were somehow equals, and it was a strange admission for him. The Lórien elf had not allowed the painful dismissal of the previous night to deter him from his goal. Instead Rúmil had formulated a plan and had executed it brilliantly, playing his part to perfection with dazzling allure. Erestor had been unable to resist. His ego protested loudly against his spectacular fall; his swollen shaft shouted louder in its need to be embedded deeply within the lithesome elfling; his soul danced in secret delight and his imprisoned heart...

Well, who could know what that incarcerated organ felt - save that, in a moment of giddy exhilaration, Erestor bent to firmly grip Rúmil about the hips and lifted him high as a wave of unexpected happiness swept through him. An unexpurgated laugh burst forth from his lips as he looked up into his willing captive's beautiful face. The glowing boy - *his* Glawaren - joined in the joyous laughter, not knowing that the spontaneous outburst of loving expression would be totally alien in the experience of any of Erestor's contemporaries, had they heard it.

One saw it, though. He saw it and his heart clenched to see the two elves entwined, auburn head to pale gold strands. Lindir had danced away and Glorfindel stood alone now on his section of the balcony, looking down on Erestor and Rúmil in silent understanding - and resentment.

 

****

 

The Chief Counsellor of Imladris cast away the last vestige of clothing and climbed onto the bed where the already-naked ellon waited in impatient silence on the dark blue sheets. As Erestor knelt down the youth rose to his knees to face him, his hands already reaching out to catch him and to pull them close and their mouths met in a desperate kiss. Erestor eagerly took control, deepening the kiss as he gently pushed the boy onto his back and then covered him with his tall frame. His long and slender fingers ran through that golden hair and the fine strands flew as generated-static caused each strand to flee the repulsing charge. Equally slim hands clutched at his strong shoulders in an unspoken demand for more contact: the exquisite groan that rumbled from the boy's throat at the rub of heated skin almost undid the elder edhel.

 

They were a tangle of limbs, wrapping around each other as a vine entwines about a supporting frame. Rúmil seemed to be fighting to meld with him, to incorporate his body into Erestor's protective length. The youth arched into every feathery touch and cried out with every flick of tongue on sweetly salty skin, and Erestor relished each reaction to his ardent ministration.

 

Erestor's hands could not help but roam the silken body beneath him. It was an anomaly. *He* was an anomaly. Sweet, sharp, innocent, wanton - Rúmil of Lórien was a complex mixture of youthful body and a mature soul. No other edhel had called to Erestor this way, demanding - and achieving - a return to his bed and his attention. It was a boon that had never been granted in nearly three thousand years.

 

Grasping the oil from the nightstand, Erestor anointed his aching member. Lifting the boy's legs to his shoulders, he looked down into the vivid blue of Rúmil's eyes, wide with desire and anticipation. There was no fear to be seen in them, no uncertainty. Erestor fixed his gaze with Rúmil's, needing to watch his reaction at the moment of their re-union. Thrusting forward, the advisor entered the youth in one swift movement.

 

It was Erestor who broke the locked gaze, clenching his eyes shut in a determined effort not to release in embarrassing and premature fulfillment. Valar, it felt like... like... home!

 

Home.

 

He had never truly had a 'home' but in this boy - inside his hot, tight and silken channel - he had found one. His intense intellect fought wildly against this impossible revelation just as his soul exhorted him to accept it freely. Furiously compressing such rebellious and unwelcome emotions away, Erestor forced himself to attend to the moment and he began to move inside Rúmil, purposely dragging the head of his shaft over the swollen internal gland. Rúmil gasped, rolling his hips high to meet each plunge with enthusiastic verve and pressing his lips firmly to Erestor's as his tongue mimicked the advisor's stroking cock.

 

Unbidden, Erestor's hands and lips explored the boy's torso, instinctively seeking and stroking those sensitive points that had been unwittingly mapped by the counsellor during their previous encounter. Within his delirious ecstasy Erestor did not care nor heed that repetition should be a precursor to boredom and familiarity should breed contempt, for neither of those negative events had occurred in this instance. Instead there was an overwhelming satisfaction that his acts were bringing great pleasure to both of them. Indeed the pleas and groans of the writhing edhel beneath him, now begging for urgent release, only fueled Erestor's determination to bring his Glawaren to a screaming climax. Tightening his arms about his boy and biting deep into the soft flesh of his shoulder, Erestor pressed hard and long against Rúmil's prostate, stimulating it beyond endurance and catapulting both of them over the precipice into explosive orgasm.

 

Aftershocks rocked their depleted bodies, sending shuddering delights to extend their entwined completion. Noldo and Silvan, dark and fair; at that moment no one would have been able to discern where one body ended and the other began. As Erestor rolled to one side to avoid crushing the slender frame so he maintained his hold on Rúmil, pulling him further into his arms.

 

Gently kissing the pale gold locks, Erestor accepted the youth's sleepy embrace and murmured endearments and only briefly acknowledged with an uncomfortable twinge that, twice in one night, a rule of his previously ordered life had been shattered by this young elf. Drifting into troubled reverie, the advisor resolved to remind Rúmil that this meant nothing to him - that *he* meant nothing to him - but tomorrow would be soon enough.

 

And within the counsellor's breast his lonely heart - imprisoned by brutality and neglect so long ago - fought valiantly against its armored jail, struggling in earnest to reach out to the Sunshine that had crept in under the wire...

 

... and tendrils of denied love made good their escape....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish:
> 
> ellon - male elf (sing.)  
> gwador - sworn brother  
> gwanûn - twins  
> Suilad - greetings  
> fëa - soul/spirit  
> mellyn nín - my friends  
> namárië - farewell  
> naneth estannen - 'named mother'  
> Mae govannen - greetings  
> elleth - female elf  
> edhil - elves (pl)  
> edhel - elf (sing.)  
> Glawaren - Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> Elvish:
> 
> ellyn - male elves (pl)  
> mellyn - friends (pl)  
> pen neth - young one  
> ellon - male elf  
> edhel - elf (sing.)  
> Glawaren - my sunlight (Sunshine)  
> pen vuin - dear one  
> ion nín - my son  
> seron vell - beloved/lover  
> Melin le - I love you  
> Melethron - male lover  
> Maer aur - good morning  
> mellon - friend
> 
> Elvish Names from the Sindarin Name Finder, http://www.councilofelrond.com/index.php
> 
> Síredol - Lindsay  
> Belegon - AuGUStus


End file.
